There is soul in my blood-And soul in my breath.

Yet my life ebbs away-As I approach my death.

 My back is broken,  My limbs are leaden,

I feel the ache of winter upon me.

 My hair is white,  My time is short,

I am coming to the end of my days.

Just as the leaves are turning,

Just as the leaves are burning

From green emerald to fiery shades,

I am crumpled from living long decades,

Waiting for my deliverance and transformation in damp bonefires,

as this day's light fades.


Dear Departed

Sweet memories of times past,


days pass,

life seems a farce,

and yet,

we never forget,

your love of life and how well you lived your life.

Thank you for being you.


I have thought of it,

This Samhain.

A day when the door opened

and closed.

The footsteps will no longer come up the path.

But the memory is dim now

And feelings as confused

As ever.

Perhaps we'll meet again.

Perhaps she's moved on.


Stayed here?

Eternity may provide the answer.

Perhaps I'll never discover it.

Perhaps I don't need to.


Breeze of remembrance

Passing through the woven grass,

Green again after Winter’s snow,

The breeze shudders in remembrance

Of Springs now past,

And reminds the world

There’s action needed now.


Passing through the iron stiff branches,

Supple again after Winter’s snow,

The breath of Spring

Brings sweet recall,

And reminds nature

There’s action needed now.



Your Grandmother?  We don't talk of her

She drank a lot you see.

Your Grandfather? A ne'er do well,

Had little time for your uncle, aunts and me.

Your father's Parents?

You remember Grandad

A Victorian through and through.

He soon parted from your granny,

You remember her.

You would have parted too.

Looking back I missed my Grandparents

Two old when I was young, and

Two dead when my life had only just begun.

So today I remember four dear folk

Who I never really knew.

Grandparents!  I thank and bless you

whatever may be true.

Grandparents, with warts and all,

Sure, you did what you had to do.




Standing together, hand in hand,

new clothes and hair combed in an alice band

I feel safe with my mother

I don't understand

this is no time to play the fool

this is my first day at school.

But my mother is with me,

no doubt, no fear,

so why on her cheek do I see a tear?


Standing together, hand in hand,

at the church door, together, we stand.

Blessed by the priest,

beside my husband.

The confetti around us flies through the air,

the first day of marriage, we are a pair.

And my mother is with us,

no doubt, no fear,

so why on her cheek do I see a tear?


Standing together, hand in hand,

on the new mown grass of sacred land,

we say our goodbyes

and I now understand.

My brother, my father, the church bells sound,

lined up at the grave, all eyes to the ground.

And my mother is with me,

no doubt, no fear,

so why on my cheek do I feel a tear?


The crows whirled through the first snow of winter, swooping and climbing against the windy current of white frozen water. Relentlessly the flow swept across the town, passed the church and up the hill, the rooftops, trees and ground hibernating under a deep white cover. The preparations of autumn eased the surprise as the sound of the wind blustered through every narrow crack in the window frame. Muffled chimes rang from the church clock, carried away on the increasing torrent of snow. And then the crows cawed, rose into the air and sailed against the tide, wings flat, open, gliding effortlessly to a better, safer roost. As they settled the sound of the wind rose again in another rush of winter’s presence.

Page last updated: 21st Jun 2018